


Volunteers of America

by SaoirseKennedy



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vietnam, Angst, It's okay though, M/M, Vietnam War, it ends alright, when isn't it angsty honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:51:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6922918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaoirseKennedy/pseuds/SaoirseKennedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We can't act like I'm not going."</p><p>Dick and Lew aren't in "the good war." They get caught up in Vietnam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Volunteers of America

December, 1968. New York City.

 

            If someone had told Lewis to cut his hair at Christmas, he didn’t hear it. His black hair curled freely around his ears and flopped on his forehead without a thought of getting chopped. He also didn’t hear the snarky inferring comments made by many of his relatives, their mouths pressed together in an all too familiar sneer. Lewis couldn’t remember who he’d talked to, who he’d offended, or why he had felt the need to do so. There wasn’t anything in his mind; just blank stares, empty thoughts, and a blinding whiteness that consumed anything it touched.

            After suffering through endless chatter and back-handed compliments, Lewis found himself on the subway, zooming downtown, past Central Park and its empty fields. The night had submerged New York in a million blazing Christmas lights. The faint noise of silver bells seemed omnipresent. They tugged at the blankness of his mind. They threatened to shatter his cocoon. His fingers fidgeted with the buttons of his coat.

His empty hallway was lined with Christmas lights that shone on the small framed pictures that he had hung the month before. As he walked, his heartbeat thudded in his ears, blocking out the soft music that played in the living room. The apartment was a medium size, which was a rare luxury in New York City. The downside was that it was old, drafty, and creaky. When he saw it for the first time he decided it had charm.

            In the little alcove bathroom hanging off from the living room the faucet was running. Lewis shrugged off his coat, and shuffled over to rest in the doorframe.

            “How were your parents?” Dick’s hair was damp. He put his toothbrush under the water, wetting the toothpaste.

            “I don’t know.” The blankness still covered his mind. He tried to recall what they had said, or what they were wearing. Flashes of bright jewelry jumped out at him. His mother’s eyes, a light brown not similar to his own. “I mean, they seemed fine.”

            “That’s typical right?” Dick ghosted a smile while brushing his teeth.

            “Yeah.” Lew drifted back to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine. Usually he kept harder liquor around, but not recently.

            At the window, Lewis watered a little house plant. Dick had brought it home one day, all blue eyes and dimples, excitedly telling him how he found the perfect one. Dick insisted that Lewis didn’t know how to water it properly, but now he was learning. His name was Harold; Harry for short.

           “Were there a lot of people there?” Dick had put trousers on. Lewis quirked a smile at him.

          “Didn’t you just take a shower?”

          “Yeah?” Dick was confused at the subject change.

          “Why did you put your trousers back on?” Lewis sat down on the couch, sipping his wine.

          “Because I want to look good for you always.” Dick shifted his hips, a quick smirk lighting his face.

          “Should’ve just left them off.”

          “Lew, the party?”

          “Just the entire Nixon clan and a hundred of our closest friends.” Nixon drained the glass. “Teddy Kennedy was there.”

          Dick raised his eyebrows. “How was he?”

          “How would you be if all three of your brothers had been killed off?” Lewis couldn’t really remember Teddy Kennedy either, even with his celebrity status dripping off of him.

          “Drunk?”

          “Drunk, high, loud.” Lew’s leg shook slightly. “I don’t know.”

          “Did you have fun?” Now Dick was looking through records. He passed through some Beatles, Stones, weird hippie stuff Lew wouldn’t look at, and finally rested on a blues record.

          “I don’t think so.” The blankness heightened as Lewis looked at Dick. He looked at the slender fingers that put the needle on a record, the sound filling the room. Dick’s tee shirt was untucked from his pants, and it stuck to his skin in the places that were still damp from his shower.

          “Lewis?” Dick had stilled.

          “Hmmm?”

          “Did you hear me?”

          “Probably not.”

          “Do you want something to eat?” Lewis shook his head. When Dick turned to go into the kitchen, Lewis felt the absence suddenly and horribly. He flopped onto his back, spreading out on the couch, his fingers curling around the frame.

          Dick came back with a sandwich. He sat on the floor, his back resting against the couch Lew was on. He ate in amiable silence, one hand entwined with Lew’s.

          “Can I have a bite?” Lewis whispered in Dick’s ear.

          “I asked you if you wanted anything.” Dick took another big bite.

          “Please?” Lewis leaned closer to the sandwich. Dick sighed and held it out for him. It was a ham and cheese sandwich. The bread was lightly toasted.

          “Yum.” Lew chewed obnoxiously.

          “Stop it.” Dick pushed his face away and laughed.

          “You love it.” Lew swallowed lewdly.

          “Yeah it’s what I’ll miss most about you.” Dick finished the sandwich. “All the ways you annoy me.”

          A sudden heaving ache emerged in Lewis’ chest. “Why did you have to say that?” He sat up. “You ruined it.”

          “That’s what you’ve been telling me for two weeks now.” Dick bit back. “We can’t act like I’m not going.”

          “It was working for me.” Lewis huffed. It had been two weeks since Dick had come home, head down and hands shaking. There had been shouting and tears. They tried not to think about that night.

          “I’m leaving Lewis.” He swiveled and pulled himself onto the couch. “It’s happening.” Lew wouldn’t look at Dick. He crossed his arms angrily.

          “If you stayed in school, you could’ve gotten out of it.”

          “Like you?” Dick bit his lip at the comment. He didn’t mean the malice.

          “You want me to drop out?” Lewis snapped his head up, intent. “I will.” Dick thought he had lost his mind.

          “You don’t belong in Vietnam.”

          “You do?” Lew was boiling. His dark eyes burned into Dick’s blue ones.

          “It’s important to me to go.” Dick moved closer, but it seemed like Lewis just shrunk deeper into the couch. “We’ve talked about this.”

           It killed Dick to leave Lewis, it really did. He hated to leave him with his parents, who couldn’t care enough about their son to accept him. Lew would be cold at night without Dick to hold him, and now he would have to water Harry.

           Dick loved Lewis. He would for as long as he lived, and beyond that. But he saw Vietnam, he knew boys were dying left and right, and something had called out to him. A sense of duty, or adventure. A sense of purpose. He wanted to do something good in his life.

           “I can go too.” Lew’s voice was a slippery whisper into his hands.

           “Don’t be silly.” Long slender fingers pulled at the rigidity of Lewis’ shoulders. “We’d be separated. Then we wouldn’t have any idea what the other was doing, where they were, or,” Dick swallowed the rest of his sentence. “Besides, I want you here. Not in middle of that death.”

            “But how am I supposed to look after you?” Lew’s voice was dripping in heartache. The strain of the past two weeks was willowing out of Lewis, infecting the very air they breathed.

            “I’ll be okay.” Dick pushed himself closer, wrapping his arms around Lew’s body. “You can write me letters of everything you’re doing here.” It was supposed to sound comforting and sincere, but instead that sentiment sounded cheap and patronizing.

            “I guess.” Lewis let Dick envelope him in his warmth, but he could tell it was reluctant.

            “Lewis you have to finish school.” Dick laid his head on Lewis’ shoulder. “Yale is where you’re meant to be. You’re almost finished.”

            “I could be drafted then.” Lewis said the thing Dick feared the most. “I could be drafted before next Christmas.”

            “You could.” Dick said it mechanically. “Or you could go to graduate school.” He sounded like a deflated balloon.

            Lew had to smile weakly at Dick’s insistence. He patted Dick’s hand gently. “I’m going to go take a shower okay?” Dick pulled himself away and watched him go.

 

            Dick would be able to see the red streaks on Lewis’ cheeks. His skin has always been sensitive. One little bump or scratch, and it would redden and burn. So the corrosive tears he’d shed in the hot water of the shower would make the flesh hive and itch. He didn’t care.

            He stayed in the thick steam for as long as he thought Dick would let him. Eventually the redhead would poke through the door, gently calling out to him. He was always responsible, always ready to pull Nix out of his head.

            Nix went through the motions of getting ready to go to bed. His teeth were scrubbed clean of alcohol, and he carded a hand through his wavy black hair. He’d been growing it out at Dick’s insistence, but so far it only swooped low over his forehead and rested just below his ears. Maybe when Dick was gone he’d shave it, to match what Dick would look like in the Army.

            Loose pajama bottoms were thrown on, along with a white tee shirt (Dick’s). Lewis stood in their bedroom for too long. He gazed out the window at Manhattan. Rows upon rows of apartments and houses littered the scene. Snow was pillowing around the edges of the glass. The Christmas lights Dick had put around the frame glittered and Lewis felt another dull pang of grief. He’d take those down when Dick left.

            He hedged around to the living room. A Solomon Burke record oozed out of the turntable. Dick was standing with his back to Lewis, and he was gazing outside, like Lew had been just a couple of moments ago. His red hair shone like copper, like it always did. It didn’t have curl the way Lew’s did, instead it grew straight and smooth, gliding over the curve of Dick’s head. When Lew pushed his hand through it, the grooves parted the hair and made small cowlicks, creating a bedhead that Lewis had never seen before.

            “Dick.” Lewis managed a smile.

            Before he could saying anything else, Dick pulled Nix to him. One arm wrapped around his waist, and another took his right hand. He took small steps to the rhythm of the song.

_“When your baby, leaves you all alone….and nobody calls you on the phone.”_

            Slowly they swayed, their bodies pulsating with unspoken emotion, their chests pushed together. Dick mouthed along Nix’s jawline before turning them around. Their hands gripped each other.

_“Don’tcha feel like crying?”_

            Nix’s throat clenched, words unspoken clogging his body. He let himself be swung around the room by Dick, who was breathing heavily into Lew’s ear. He lowly hummed along with the words.

            _“You don’t ever have to walk alone.”_

            Anything Nix might have wanted to say or do was swallowed up by the sheer force of Dick. Their feet matched a slowly steady beat. Dick steered them around the room, careful of the coffee table and stack of books by the couch.

            Dick dipped Lewis slightly, kissing silently at his chest as he did so. It was a heady experience.

            _“Oh come on take my hand and baby won’tcha walk with me?”_

            The record clicked off, and the room was silent. Dick held Nix to him, breathing loudly. They had stopped mid dance, and their hands were still clasped. Neither of them said anything.

            Suddenly Dick was pushing Nix onto the couch, his long hands frantically grabbing his face, hotly kissing him. He wedged himself onto Lewis’ lap. Lewis pushed his hands under Dick’s pants to grope him, eliciting a moan from Dick above.

            Dick pulled Lew’s shirt off of him, and scratched his hands up and down the exposed flesh. He gripped the back of Dick’s neck, anchoring him to Dick, and their mouths met wetly, smacking together with saliva, swallowing each other’s moans.

            Hips grind down together in a frantic race for friction. They are mad together, wild and unhinged. Lewis smells like Dick’s body wash and Dick smells like the new sheets Lewis put on the bed that morning. Dick’s copper hair is messy and clipped, and it contrasts brightly to Lew’s head of beautiful black. It shrouds Dick’s hair in a muted silence.

            Their pants are thrown together over the edge of the couch. Dick immediately palms Lew’s crotch, desperate to see the different faces Lewis would make. He traces his nose down the shape of Lew’s jaw, and lick and bites along his throat. He feels dizzy and heady, and he’s sure he looks feverish.

            He makes quick work of Lew, stroking him quickly and then enveloping him with his mouth. Lewis grips Dick’s head and whines out his name, along with expletives that make Dick blush. He drives the point of pleasure through Lew’s body, making sure white hot sensations blur his vision. Nixon moans Dick’s whole name, pushing up and squeezing his eyes shut.

            After, Dick finished himself off, with encouragement from Lewis. He doesn’t care though, he only wants to watch Lew, only wants to hold him and feel the heat of his face against his chest. He wants to kiss the plumpness into his lips and carry his tired limbs to bed with him.

            When they do managed to get to the bed, they cling to one another, the intensity of the night seeping into them. It lays around them, and it is sprinkled in their hair. When one tries to talk to the other it fills their mouths and renders them speechless. All they can do is wrap their arms around each other and fill the gaps between them.

            “I love you.” Lewis says it with force.

            “I love you more.” Dick says it with finality.

            “No.” Lewis fights back like a petulant child. Dick doesn’t say anything, only kisses Lewis’ forehead in an attempt to placate him. In a week he’ll be gone, off to Georgia for bootcamp. Lewis will be left to go back to Connecticut, back to Yale. Their apartment will lay empty until the spring semester ends. Then Lew will wander New York alone. Who knows where Dick will be.

            For now they have each other, and although that may not feel like enough, it is all they can hope to have.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> I always have this idea that Dick would go into Vietnam without much trouble. Like maybe he'd get drafted or maybe he'd volunteer, but no matter what he wouldn't ever draft dodge or object just so someone else would go in his place. So this is just kinda a play on that, and how Lewis has to deal with it, because he's not a coward but obviously he'd deal with Vietnam in a different way. 
> 
> Plus who doesn't love the thought of 60s!Lewis?
> 
> Also the song that I imagine playing is "Cry to Me" by Solomon Burke


End file.
